


Its Okay To Be Afraid

by sweetsnow73



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Other, POV Alternating, Reader-Insert, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 22:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13468104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetsnow73/pseuds/sweetsnow73
Summary: Wrong place, right time. Destiny is rarely simple or easy; sorry about the angry robot.





	Its Okay To Be Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place around the battle of Mission city in the first movie. You'll see what I mean.

  


You had time to spare.

So of course you ended up in the back of _Rusty Linda,_ a van that had seen better days, watching the mile markers speed by. It would be a while before the exit came up. Your friends around you chatted enthusiastically about anything that would make the time go by quicker. You were being dragged into another soulmate searching adventure. This would be the forth time in three months. Your friends have a deep set hope that today would be the day, that they would finally find their matches.

The gentle scrawl of your soul mates first words to you, and the process of making the match, is a huge deal ™. Websites and match makers are a million dollar industry, just to get two strangers to meet, to maybe find that person that will be exactly what you need to help you flourish. It’s said that a match would help you, support you, challenge you. It's supposed to be everything you'd need. **If** you had one anyway. Some people didn't and they did just fine. You admired those people.

The friends you are with today are so in love with the idea of it all. The friend to the left of you has _Uhm, Maybe?_ in English on her upper arm, she hands you a Coke from the cooler and giggles at a joke someone said but you missed. You start to sip the drink and look out the window again, the landscape is mostly empty.

It's unlikely you'll find your match anytime soon. Ideally in the next decade. Maintaining cautious optimism is the only way you've survived this long. The words on your leg aren't in any currently known language. You've searched for a match. Your parents, some friends, and a stray overly curious linguistics professor has tried their hand at it as well.

Your online forum friends suggest that it’s could be from a very small group of people. _“There are plenty of dying languages out there!”_ and _“Maybe they belong to a group of isolated people!”_

They were possibilities and you've learned to nurture possibility.

The exit comes into view and the van creaks slightly when the break is applied, you pat the arm rest in support for the old gal.

It takes too long to find a 'good' spot in the car park and all of you practically burst from the van, ready to stretch and take to the streets. You might have been less enthusiastic about this whole trip but the mood caught you and you were ready to just go-go-go!

Sparkling smiles, hair perfectly aligned, your group of five take off towards the Barnes and Noble down the block from the car park.

After that is there is a string of coffee shops.

Then a few antique stores.

It was important to mix up where to look, from the previous attempts.

Finally at a small park the group breaks up, agreeing to meet up later that afternoon to head home. Your friends start to take off, and you look for any place to waste time in.

The first store that catches your eye is a shoe store, seemed rather empty. It would be good to rest and gather your thoughts.

 

* * *

 

A spark mate was something that used to be a thing of joy on their world, celebrated, idolized.

It was something he never got excited about.

In fact the longer he lived, the more he grew to hate the whole situation.

He never, even for a moment, experienced joy from the alien language scrawl on him.

He hid it away as soon as he could, like the shame he knew it to be. After all, he wasn't even worthy of someone of his own species, it was _disgraceful_. A sick joke.

When he had been asked in the past he simply stated he never had any words. He would proudly claim he was one of those matchless mechs and it was perfectly fine for him.

It would have been better that way.

Such matters were made insignificant in the face of the war, scattering them all off a dead planet to the darkest reaches of space. The matter had been pushed so far from his thoughts, that when he finally reached the planet Earth and saw the alphabet that matched the strange words he carried, he almost dropped out of the sky in shock.

Another slight in a long line against him.

Because _of course_ he had been gifted a mate from the useless dominant species on this mud ball.

Another reason to destroy it.

Then he finally translated the words.

He was insulted.

_Are you alright?_

Sympathy. Disgusting that it would come from one of _them_.

He refused to accept this.

He refused to humor this.

And he certainly refused to want this.

* * *

 

People were scattering and screaming. Your only focus was to run, to hide, you were on the street. Too exposed, a easy target. You had left the shore and walked into chaos.

You could feel the hyper focus on the one task: hide, _hide,_ _ **hide.**_

Gunfire and explosions some how made you go faster, you hadn't thought it was possible. From a source inside of yourself you pushed further and further.

You just needed to hide. To get away from the epicenter of all the destruction.

When you finally stopped you leaned against a wall. The area was completely unrecognizable to you. All your visits to the city were rendered useless by pure panic.

You were gasping for air and slowly your hands reached for your pockets. You needed to find your phone, but what would you do it you dropped it? One problem at a time.

You yelped and hit the ground when the explosion of sorts happened. No not explosion. Impact. Something heavy landed.

Metal sounds, scraping, clunking, the type of groaning that only metal on metal can make.

These sounds drew your attention to a mass of metal. With hands and arms that was throwing off rocks and debris. The thing must have crash landed. You recognized the shape as humanoid, it was maybe even talking to itself, not that you recognized anything that it said. The thing shook what would be shoulders to dislodged more debris.

Perhaps this vague likeness is why you felt compelled to reach a hand out in concern.

“Are you alright?”

You couldn’t tell how loud you spoke. Your hearing was a bit of a mess, but the way the thing reacted made it seem like you had screamed at it.

Glowing eyes turned to you.

The giant smashed a fist into the ground and screeched what seemed to be words to you.

It wasn’t a language you knew but they were spoken with anger. An almost tangible anger that made you flinch back into the wall.

The giant took a running start and disappeared into the sky after a series of twists that resulted in a jet.

You laid down trying to process everything.

You could make sense of this, of all this insanity.

You just needed time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here are some notes I have on how these marks work:  
> *Not everyone has one and for this story they are romantic matches (but I am fond of platonic ones as well, I just didn't use them in this story).  
> *They are akin to severe scar tissue and are pigment-less, they can be anywhere on any skin color. On cybertronians I was thinking they would be etched into the protoform.  
> *The words are in the soul mates native language.  
> *Given how this is destined™ it really wouldn't matter if one of the pair is born first because DESTINY. Destiny can take a long time to come to fruition, need to play the long game when half the pair is long lived AF.  
> *Whats written on the reader is “Dont patronize me vermin”


End file.
